


It Was Suppose to be Simple

by f0rever15elf



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Food mention, Hurt/Comfort, Pedro Pascal - Freeform, hospital mention, non-explicit reference to sexual scenarios, reader injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27074116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0rever15elf/pseuds/f0rever15elf
Summary: It was suppose to be simple, no strings attached. So when you find yourself falling for Oberyn Martell during your partnership, you do what you have to: you end things.
Relationships: Oberyn Martell & Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	It Was Suppose to be Simple

**Author's Note:**

> This comes as a fulfillment of a request for one of my tumblr followers. A very enjoyable piece to write.

_You shouldn’t have let things get this far._

“Why won’t you just _talk_ to me?!” Oberyn screams, arms wide as he glares at you.

_You had an agreement._

“It wouldn’t matter anyways!” you scream back.

_It was a simple thing._

“Well how am I supposed to know when you won’t tell me?!”

_No strings attached._

“Because we had an agreement!”

_No feelings._

“ _What_ agreement?!” he all but wails, lost as he has ever felt before.

_You shouldn’t have let things get this far._

“No strings! No feelings! Besides, it’s not like I’m the only one who keeps you warm at night. Just another body to draw your own pleasure from until you grow bored and galavant off with someone new and more interesting.” Tears brim in your eyes, and you can’t tell if they’re out of anger or sorrow. You hate talking to him this way, but it must be done. Oberyn is shocked into silence and you take the opportunity to turn on your heel, grabbing your purse before storming out of his penthouse apartment, out into the busy streets. Rain pours from the heavens as you walk, drenched from the moment you stepped out the door. He hadn’t even made to follow you, you know where he stands for certain now, and you’re all the more angry at yourself for letting your feelings develop to this point. Tears still pour from your eyes as you nearly run through the rain, heading somewhere, _anywhere._ Anywhere that wasn’t his apartment, his arms, his bed.

It all happens so fast, you don’t have a prayer of getting out of the way. Tires squeal, a horn blares, a woman screams, and everything goes dark.

~~~~~~

Spending your days working at the little coffee shop on 6th street allowed for some interesting people watching. You had seen all manners of individuals, some far more memorable than others. A man once walked in with a duck on a leash. The duck’s name was Trevor and he liked crackers, you found out. Another time, a whole gaggle of cosplayers dressed in the most authentic looking Avengers cosplay you had ever seen stormed in, and each and every one of them ordered in character. You still have the picture you took with them, and you treasure it dearly.

But there was one man, a regular, who kept catching your eye. He was elegant, always dressing in flowy clothes that accentuated his figure. He held himself high, shoulders back and chin up in a relaxed and confident stance and people always cleared the way for him, without him having to ask. The baristas could never seem to complete a sentence when talking to him without erupting into giggles, to which he only smiled and thanked them when they had delivered his coffee. He never lingered, but you found yourself constantly looking forward to his visits.

Occasionally, his eyes would find yours and his lips would quirk into a small, confident smirk as you quickly look away with heat flooding your cheeks. When you would look up again, he would be gone. You wanted to meet him, to gather up the courage to say hello, but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to.

And so here you sit, typing away on a report due in the coming week as you grumble over the impropriety of such a short turn around. You’re tucked away in your little corner at a table for two, your work taking up most of the small space as you let it consume you, washing away the bustling little shop. A throat clearing followed by one of the most gentle, melodious voices you have ever heard startles you, causing you to jump in your seat with an embarrassing little squeak. Your eyes dart up to see that elegant man standing before you, he sleek figure accentuated today by a golden turtleneck and white jeans. He looked…delectable.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he murmurs with a small smirk, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “I was wondering if this seat was taken?” He gestures to the second seat at your little table and you blink, processing the request.

“You can take the chair if you need it, I’m not using it.”

The chuckle that leaves his lips is low and sultry and it makes you shiver. “Flower, I am asking to join you, not to commandeer your chair.”

“O-oh! Sorry I just assumed that… I mean, no, I don’t mind. You can sit with me.” You gracelessly scramble to organize your things, trying to give the man some room as he thanks you, taking his seat with all the grace of some ancient royalty.

“My name is Oberyn,” he offers with a smile before sipping his coffee.

“It’s nice to meet you, Oberyn.” You offer him your name, closing your laptop enough to look over it. You could afford some time for pleasantries. Oberyn smiles, trying your name on his own tongue and you love the way it sounds in that accent of his, sweeter than nectar. He smiles, nodding at the sound of it and you see the crinkle of smile lines around his eyes and a little dimple that makes itself known for a brief moment. A dark, stubbly beard lines his jaw all the way to his short, soft looking hair, paired with a short little mustache. He really is beautiful.

“What is it you are working on?” Small talk was never your strong suit, and you blanch a bit at the question before chuckling nervously.

“I help to write reports on article reviews for scientific journals. I’ve had a request for a quick turn around that I’ve been busting tail on. Rather outside the realms of proper etiquette for this kind of thing, but hey, it pays the bills so I can’t really complain.”

“I don’t mean to distract you from important work,” Oberyn frowns and you decide you don’t like making him frown. “I’ve just noticed you from the line whenever I come in. You seem as permanent a fixture here as the chairs and tables.”

“I don’t have an office at my little apartment, so this is the next best thing. Plus, I’m friends with the staff here.” You flash him a smile that he quickly returns. “And it’s good for people watching.”

“Something you do often?”

His reply is so deadpan that you nearly spit out the sip of coffee you had taken before you reply, flustered. “W-well, not often. Sometimes, yeah, maybe, but it’s rude to stare and I mean, I don’t just come here to creep on people. But interesting people come here and sometimes you just have to look and-”

His hand rests over your own as you ramble and he chuckles, cutting you off. “Flower, don’t fret. It was a simple question. I ask because I’ve caught you looking at me on several occasions is all. I thought perhaps I may have caught your eye the way you did mine.” His gentle smile and the weight of his hand on yours kicks your heart into a sprint, and you would have been lying if you said you hadn’t found yourself looking for him on the days you realized where his usual.

“W-well, maybe but… Wait… I caught your eye?” He nods, a confident smirk still on that beautifully handsome face.

“Oh yes, from the first time I saw you I’ve been rather intrigued by you.”

You close your laptop the rest of the way, watching him with an incredulous gaze. “You aren’t playing with me?”

“I am many things, but a man to play with the emotions of a woman is not one of those things.” His voice is steady as his gaze, and you believe him. “If you’d let me, I would like to take you out some time. A nice dinner and perhaps a movie back at my apartment. If you are comfortable with such a thing.”

You ruminate on it. If you are being honest, it sounds lovely, and it would mean you get to see more of that handsome face, those beautiful eyes. After a moment of him watching you with an expectant smile, you nod. “I think that sounds amazing, Oberyn.” His smile widens, showing off his teeth as he sits back in his chair.

“Well then, Flower, let me know where to meet you, and I’ll pick you up at seven tonight.”

~~~~~

You could never have expected what that date would develop into. An… intricate relationship with this man who at times you weren’t 100% convinced was even real. He showered you with affections and little trinkets, fine dinners and the occasional vacation, and took you to his bed where he would worship your body. He treated you like royalty. But it was always with a caveat; no strings attached. Oberyn, you came to find out, was a man who truly enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh. He loved to spoil and be spoiled, he loved to pleasure and be pleased, but the realm of emotional connection beyond the care of your comfort and happiness was closed off to him. You knew you were not the only woman Oberyn would take to his bed. 

And for the longest time, you thought you would have no issues with that. You could take pleasure from one another, then go about your day as a single woman. You could date whomever you wished, sleep with whomever you wished, and he would always take you back whenever you called out to him, ready to blow your mind for another night and treat you like royalty yourself.

No strings attached. Simple.

But things are never that simple, are they?

Dating becomes more and more disheartening as you analyze your dates with a critical eye, not even realizing you are searching for bits of _him_ in them. That little crinkle around their eyes betraying a life of laughter, or that confident smirk as they watch you from across the table. Each date leaves you disappointed and for the longest time you can’t figure out why. Until, that is, the day you realize that it’s because they aren’t him. The day you lay with someone who isn’t him and your heart nearly breaks from the guilt is the day you realize this has gone on for too long, and that you are in too deep. And yet you still seek out his comfort, laying in bed beside him. You had to tell him. But maybe not today.

~~~~

Oberyn adores you. Out of all of the men or women who share his bed, all their warmth pales in comparison to yours. When he is alone and his mind wanders, he finds it wanders to you, wondering what it is you are doing. He wonders if you wear the jewelry he buys you regularly. Do you keep that gold chain with moonstone around your neck, even when he doesn’t see you? What of the silver ring with sapphire of deeper blue than the expanse of the ocean? Does it grace your beautiful hand during your day to day? Do you think of him? 

It’s never been this way before. Sure, he would find a favorite who would come back more often than the others to lay beside him, but when they were gone again, he rarely thought of them. You’re different, though. He can’t seem to _stop_ thinking of you. And in more ways than simply the pleasure your body provides him.

Slowly, his calls to others stop, no longer inviting others into his bed. The last day he does, guilt sits so heavy in his stomach that he feels nauseated. Oberyn thinks himself a fair and just man, never one to play with a lover’s emotions. He had told you as much the day he met you. He has such a respect for everyone who agrees to seek pleasure with him, from him, that it sickens him to find himself thinking of you when another lays beneath or beside him. It’s unfair to them, and to you.

And so he stops. He ushers the woman lying with him that last time out of his apartment with a sorrowful heart, asking her forgiveness for not being able to give her the pleasure she seeks from him, but he simply can’t do so in good conscience. He closes the door behind her, resting his head against it as he closes his eyes. All he can see is you, like your ethereal visage is seared on his eyelids.

It was supposed to be simple. No strings attached.

So why isn’t it?

~~~~

The days go by, turning into a week and then two and then three and Oberyn doesn’t hear from you once. He finds himself checking his phone religiously, hoping and praying to whatever higher power exists that he would turn it over and see your name lighting up the screen. But it never happens, and he’s growing worried. Swallowing his pride, he picks up his phone, selecting your name to send you a message. He needs to see you.

You have been avoiding him, you know you have, but you just can’t bring yourself to text him. The moonstone necklace around your neck feels so heavy as you pace your small apartment, surrounded in an anxious, guilt ridden energy. No strings attached. You had agreed to this, and now there were most definitely strings. Strings you needed to sever, even if it would break your heart beyond all repair. When your phone lights up, your stomach drops through the floor. You know who it is before so much as looking at the screen, but seeing his name makes it all the more real.

“ _We need to talk.”_

Your eyes tear up. He’s right, you do need to talk. And your heart is already breaking because of it. It’s time to face the inevitable, and so you get dressed, wearing the pretty things he’s bought you. You would return them to him today, knowing you would never be able to keep them in good conscience after what was about to transpire. With a heavy heart and squared shoulders, you make your way to his apartment.

The knock on his door shakes Oberyn from his reverie. He had been thinking of you, of what he was going to say, how he was going to say this. He didn’t know what he felt, all he knows is that things can’t continue on like this. Something has to give. But to know just what, he has to know how you feel. It’s only fair to you. He stands, the walk to the door feeling like the longest journey he’s ever taken. When he opens the door to see you standing there, his heart stutters in his chest in a way that only happens when he sees you. You’re wearing the moonstone necklace and the dress he bought you that hugged your figure in the most alluring of ways. You look like an angel, he thinks as he welcomes you in, the air far more tense than it usually is when you cross his threshold.

He whispers your name at the same time you say “I’m ending this” and his heart falls through the floor, eyes widening as he stares at you. Surely he had to have misheard you.

“I beg your pardon?” he rasps, voice stubbornly refusing to grow any louder.

“I’m ending this, Oberyn. I’m done.”

Had you found someone else who was ready to commit to you? How lucky that individual would be to have you well and truly as their own. And how… jealous he feels to not be that person. “Flower… why?”

You shake your head, trying to keep his pet name for you from influencing your decision. This is for the best. No strings attached. “I don’t want to do this anymore.” You know it’s a lie, but you have to find a way to end this.

“I don’t believe that, Flower. You know I know you better than that.” He takes a step towards you, reaching for you and you take a step back with another shake of your head. Your heart races in your chest as you go on the defensive. You can’t afford to let yourself be charmed by him, not this time.

“Don’t touch me,” you snap with as much venom as you can manage and he freezes, shock turning his blood to ice in his veins. You had never used such a tone with him before. “I said I’m done, Oberyn.” You reach up, taking off the necklace and rings he had bought you, setting them on his table.

“Please… please don’t do this, please talk to me. Why the change, why now? Flower….” You have never heard him beg, not even when you teased him, drawing out his pleasure. But he begged you now, eyes wide and fearful as he watches you.

“I don’t want to, Oberyn,” you snap again. You need to get out before things get ugly and you cave.

Oberyn’s shock gives way to frustration that you don’t at least have the decency to tell him what he did wrong, why you’ve had a change of heart. How could you hurt him like this? Why… did this hurt him so much? This was supposed to be no strings attached, what happened?

The ensuing yelling match breaks his heart piece by piece. When you accuse him of simply running off with someone else after no one else has shared his bed for weeks, he freezes. He can’t bring himself to say anything as he processes what it is you’re truly feeling, why it is you’re ending this. How had he not noticed? How had he never known?

His door slams behind you as you make your exit and all he can think of are those tears on your face as you turned to leave. His begging to have you stay lodges in his throat as he watches you leave him.

_Go after her_.

Step by agonizing step, he moves to the door, stopping only to grab the gifts you had left on the table to slide them into his pocket before he is out the door after you. It wasn’t supposed to go over like this, and he couldn’t let this be the last time he sees you. He runs out into the busy city street, eyes wild as he looks for you through the rain and the bustle of people. He’s soaked, looking rather like a drowned cat than the regal business man he is.

_Where did you go?_

He hears the tires screech and the horn blare and the woman scream and his heart shatters. He flies through the crowd towards the sound, fear propelling him forward with amazing speed, hoping against hope that his intuition is wrong for once.

There is a crowd in the middle of the street, several people on their phones and he shoves unceremoniously through them all. Someone lets out a wail of sorrow as his eyes land on you, unconscious on the road, bleeding onto the asphalt from your head, and it takes him a moment to realize that it is he that made the sound. He falls to his knees beside you, eyes blurring with tears as he carefully picks up your wrist, checking for a pulse.

_Please. Please don’t leave me, Flower._

It is weak as it flutters under his fingers, but your pulse is there. You’re alive, if only just barely. “Flower, oh my Flower I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have let this happen, I’m so sorry,” he sobs, holding your hand to his cheek, careful to not move your head or neck. He very nearly fights the paramedics as they try to pull him off of you so they can help you. It’s only after they agree to let him ride with them to the hospital that he calms down, he eyes never leaving your figure. How could he have let it get this far?

Transitioning you to the hospital room is a blur, Oberyn forced to wait in the lobby as you’re treated for your injuries and undergoing scans to make sure nothing internal was damaged. He’s well on his way to wearing a rut in the linoleum of the lobby when a nurse quietly calls for him. She gives him a kind smile and asks for him to follow her.

“How… How is she?” he manages to croak out, dreading the reply as much as he desires it.

“Stable. She has six staples in her scalp to close the laceration from where she hit her head, and several of her ribs are broken, but beyond that there were no internal injuries. She most likely has a concussion, but until she wakes up and can talk to us, we can’t assess the severity of it. The MRI didn’t reveal any severe damage. She’s very lucky, all things considered.” Oberyn’s shoulders relax, but only slightly as the nurse talks. It sounds like you will be okay given enough rest. When the nurse stops at your door, it takes every ounce of strength he has left for Oberyn to open it and walk in. 

The sight before him nearly kills him.

Your head is wrapped in bandages to keep the stapled wound covered, and your skin has a pallor to it that makes his stomach flip. An IV is attached to your arm and a pulse meter on your finger hooks up to the machine that beeps steadily with the beat of your heart. An oxygen tube lays under your nose, the rhythmic hiss louder than it should be to his ears. You are alive, but seeing you like this is his worst nightmare. “I’ll give you some privacy,” the nurse says kindly, shutting the door behind her as she leaves. Oberyn doesn’t even hear her, sitting down at your bedside as he carefully takes your hand between his own.

“My sweet, beautiful Flower…” Tears brim in his eyes and he does nothing to bite them back, slowly letting them spill over. “What have I done to drive you to this place? How did I let such a thing happen to an angel such as you.” Sobs begin to wrack his chest, his shoulders heaving as he keeps his grip gentle on your hand. “I am a fool. Such a fool, little Flower, to have let something as precious as you slip through my fingers. All because I couldn’t recognize my own feelings.” He bows his head, unable to speak well through the sobs. “I-I h-haven’t bedded a-anyone i-in w-weeks, Flower. A-all I can th-think of is you. H-How they all w-weren’t you.” He tries to calm himself down, carefully picking your hand up to run his lips along your scraped knuckles with the most tender of caresses.

He is quiet for a long moment, allowing himself to grieve. “Flower, I-I have never thrived with commitment,” he takes a deep breath, his cries having subsided to only tears running down his face. “But I would try with you. I have never understood love, I do not know how it feels. But I think this ache in my chest for you must mean _something._ This desire I have to hold you, and only you in my arms. This need to call you mine, and only mine. This jealousy I feel at the thought of you with any other. The fact that you grace my dreams and I see you whenever my eyes are closed… It all must mean _something_. I don’t know if this is love, but I want to find out, Flower. I want to find out with you.” He holds your hand against his cheek, his eyes closed. It is only when he feels your finger twitch against his face that he opens his eyes, nearly gasping when he sees you laying there with open eyes, watching him.

“O-Oberyn,” you rasp, your voice hoarse and faint.

“Don’t strain yourself, Flower, it’s alright. You’re safe now.” He squeezes your hand gently, letting it down from his face.

“Do you mean it?” Your heart aches with longing, trembles in fear. This man has so much power over you, power he doesn’t even realize. He holds your whole heart in the palm of his hand, he could so easily crush it between his elegant fingers. Tears brim in your eyes as you tremble, waiting for his reply with bated breath.

His lips pass over your knuckles once more, kissing each and every one of them in that reverent manner only he possesses, his eyes never once leaving yours. “I do, Flower. I mean every word. I don’t know how much you heard of my little speech, but every word, I have meant it. Where once I sought the pleasures of many, I now have but eyes for you. And I should have told you sooner, my Flower. Maybe then you wouldn’t be here, in this bed.” His voice is heavy with guilt as he watches you and you wish you could take him into your arms and comfort him, but even the thought of moving your body causes your ribs to ache.

“Sunshine,” you whisper, a nickname you so rarely use with him but that fits his golden glow so well. “I want it too… It’s… it’s why I left. Because of no strings attached, I couldn’t stay and force you into something we had agreed against.” You cough and groan at the sharp pain in your chest and Oberyn’s hands ghost over you as he frets.

“What is it Flower, do you need the nurse?” You shake your head, trying to steady your breathing.

“I-I’m okay. It just hurts a bit is all,” you wince as you reposition yourself only slightly before fixing your eyes back on Oberyn who looks like death warmed over. He did not wear the stress of grief and fear well. “I think I may love you, Oberyn Martell.”

His heart stutters in his chest, his stomach doing a little flip and he holds your hand a little tighter. Never had he dreamed to hear such words fall from those lips that had been sculpted with the most delicate touch in that voice that the angels themselves would envy. And he thinks for a moment that this throbbing in his chest might mean the same.

“I think I may love you too, Flower.” His voice trembles as he speaks, uncertainty and apprehension lacing them in a tone so unfamiliar.

“We can find out together.” You manage a little smile that earns a matching one from him, and it lights up the room in a warm golden glow.

“Together,” he echoes as you rest your hand on his cheek. The thought of commitment always makes Oberyn’s heart race, but this time, rather than fear, all he can feel is excitement. Who knows what the future holds? No matter what it may be, he feels no worry, so long as he has you there, holding his hand. His little Flower.


End file.
